


sail

by JeanSouth



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanSouth/pseuds/JeanSouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>shorter Akafuri fics that don't warrant a separate work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"It's cold," Furihata shivers, hands clenching in his skirt to try to pull it down. Up in the mountains the air is always cold and blowing hard, cooling his thighs. The skirt his class has left him with doesn't even come to his knees; it's a few shades of blue and sticks out slightly in layers. When he moves it swishes softly, perfectly appropriate for a songmage that needs to sway to work his magic. 

"When we set up camp, there's no other choice but for you to sit close to me," Akashi says, striding past him with a confident strut. He's mainly a pyromancer with a few skills in other elements; Furihata knows Akashi's body always runs warm from previous conversations. It's just... hard to sit next to him. "Is there an issue with that?"

At the back of the party, Akashi's hot hands trail along the edge of his skirt, running a path in circles over his cold skin. He doesn't want to like it, but they're a relief from the cold tundra they need to cross to get to the Gran Kiltias. Akashi's fingers stray higher as they pass, turning into a hand rubbing his leg instead of just fingers.

He jolts when they run along the edge of his panties (blue, he knows they're blue and he knows Akashi knows that too), jerking away; his body moves back towards the heat source automatically. 

"Are you alright?" Akashi asks, fake concern in his voice pitched just loud enough to carry to their allies in front of them. A few of them look back, taking in Furihata's flushed cheeks with sympathetic looks. Crossing the tundra with a weak constitution isn't easy, after all. "We'll catch up to them in a moment, you should rest."

A small alcove is nearby, shadowed away from the light. Though the entrance is small, the inside is a fair size. A whispered spell from Akashi lights a blazing, contained fire off to the side that gives off a pleasant heat and illuminates the room.

"These parts of you seemed very cold," Akashi mentions conversationally, backing Furihata towards the edge of the cave where time has molded it into a natural shelf. He has no choice but to sit when he gets close, hands brushed away when he tries to grip at Akashi's wrists. "They're pale from the cold."

Akashi kneels between his legs, blowing hot air onto his cold tighs. He jumps and tries to close his legs at the sudden sensation. Hot hands on his knees stop him and push them further apart; Akashi's hot mouth trails kisses from his knee upwards.

"This part is getting warmer quickly," Akashi says, and Furihata can feel his breath ghost over his cock; shamefully hard despite his own hesitations. When his skirt is pushed up he can see it too; his panties have a small wet spot where the tip touches them. "You're eager."

He draws his tongue over Furihata's cock, wetting his panties slightly. Warm fingers tease at the edge of them, trailing further down until Furihata's legs tremble in anticipation. They slip away from the edges though, trailing over the top of the fabric instead to rub gentle between his cheeks.

It's a sensation, but it's not hard enough by far when Akashi barely teases. He whimpers out a high pitched please before taking a shaky breath, holding on tight to the edges of his skirt to keep from doing something stupid.

For a moment Akashi rubs harder, starting to lick and suck a path down Furihata's panty-covered cock. He takes his time, going slow with utmost attention to detail until he reaches the base.

His warm hands adeptly switch their position, sliding Furihata's legs upwards until his hips shift. The rough texture of the shelf he's sitting on catch the fabric of his panties, pulling them tight when he slides forward. 

The satisfaction is obvious on Akashi's face before he leans in, trailing his tongue where his fingers were before, pressing hard. It's hot and wet, incredibly unexpected. Furihata lets go of the edge of his skirt, reaching for Akashi's hair to hold on and press him closer, looking for more of that feeling.

Akashi gives it to him, fingers digging into his hips while he continually picks up his pace, letting Furihata try to grind towards him. 

Warms hands eventually reach up to rub at his cock, a gentle touch in comparison to Akashi's tongue. It's too much when he looks down and catches a glimpse of him; his own semen stains his panties. Akashi doesn't stop until he's calmed down completely, and he looks smug when he sits back.

"You look flushed, Kouki-kun. Are you too warm?" Akashi asks him, looking innocent and kind. He uses his summon materia to get them a mount when Furihata's legs tremble too hard for him to walk, and tugs him on top of it with too, ignoring his protests about needing to change his panties.

"Leave them on," Akashi says with an almost-smile, rapidly catching up to their group. "I'm the only one who'll see."


	2. Chapter 2

"It's cold out," Akashi says, opening his eyes to stare directly at Furihata when he makes for the door. It's starting to get dark in the mid-November winter, and even though it's barely dinnertime the air has a stark chill in it. It's not far to get home, but his Seirin uniform is thin. "Wear a sweater."

Akashi's bedroom is in perfect order, with only Akashi's Rakuzen uniform still on the floor. The massive, dark wood closet looks almost intimidating to mess up. A sigh sounds from behind him before Akashi, dressed in nothing but pajama pants comes up behind him and opens it. He pulls out a soft, black loose-knit sweater that looks like it's never been worn.

"It was a gift that doesn't suit me," Akashi explains, making Furihata lift his arms to get the sweater on. Despite never being worn, it smells like Akashi's fabric softener. A little part of Furihata is disappointed. "Come here."

He follows obediently across the room, letting Akashi make him put the Rakuzen jacket on. It smells like Akashi; only faintly of fabric softener with the scent of fresh air and his deoderant. A scarf gets looped around his neck and it carries the same scent; Akashi pulls it closed tightly to make sure he's bundled up well, and takes him to the door.

"It's dark," Akashi warns him, doing up the Rakuzen jacket with nimble hands. "You're not wearing dark clothes, but be safe nonetheless."

He pulls down the scarf a little for a kiss, and sees Furihata off. Furihata wonders how he was ever scared of Akashi.


	3. Chapter 3

"Furihata-kun," Akashi says a day after Furihata first sees him, when Akashi corners him near a vending machine and doesn't let him flee. If he's honest, he wouldn't be able to flee even if he could get past Akashi. His feet are rooted to the ground, and he's stuck in the position of reaching for his change but not quite getting there. "Hello."

It's a simple, innocuous greeting that makes a shiver run down his spine anyway. For a moment his body disobeys him, and he drops the can he just bought. There's a moment of silence where Akashi gives him a judging, suspicious look as if trying to figure out if he did it on purpose. Whatever he sees, it doesn't seem like he's holding it against him.

"Here," Akashi says when he picks up the can and holds it out to him, with the hands of the captain of the generation of miracles, hands that his own brush when he manages to force himself to move and take the can. It's only by pure will and determination that he doesn't drop it again, so he drops it in his bag. He won't be drinking the fizzy drink any time soon after it's shook up, anyway.

"Kouki-kun, was it?" Akashi inquires, watching him with secretive amusement. No one calls him by his first name, especially not practical strangers.

Furihata opens his mouth to protest that Akashi should call him Furihata, but all that comes out is a breathless squeak. Akashi laughs, and he flushes bright red. Akashi doesn't stop him when he runs by.

When he gets back to the changing rooms, Kuroko tells him he gave Akashi his number.


	4. Chapter 4

Akashi disregards most people. There are his allies, his enemies, and other persons in existence. There are subcategories, like enemies that are his allies in certain situations, or someone who should be his enemy but has that status overridden by lover.

Opinion doesn't matter to him; the public seems him as strange. His enemies see him as terrifying, and his allies know his true self. 

Not everyone is like him though, and sometimes he forgets, because Shintarou always ignored taunts, Kise overreacted - none of his Teiko team had true issues with the public's image, because their own skill and prowess shielded them from true critism.

Kouki sighs though, sitting next to him in his kitchen, not saying a word. This, after he's finally gotten him to relax in private and in public. After he's gotten him to stop shaking and trying to escape.

"People are cruel," Akashi offers, reaching out to place a hand on the back of Kouki's head, resisting the urge to go out and find someone to make suffer. He knows it's no use even if he does. "Even in this day and age, where there's no biological necessity for heterosexuality to be the only truly accepted norm, homosexuality is looked down upon by bigots whose fear and insecurities cause them to lash out."

Kouki sighs again, reaching up to tangle their fingers together. He'll bounce back, Akashi knows he will, but for the near future he'll have to work to make Kouki feel comfort with him out in public again.

"Words like that only come from the weak," He adds, getting up to slide his arms around Kouki's shoulders, holding onto him tightly. Homophobes have firmly slotted themselves into the category of his enemies, and it's one of the rare times that someone outside basketball has found themselves there. "Pay them no heed."

It takes a little while, but Kouki relaxes into him, letting go of the first time shock of getting heckled by homophobes. Akashi imagines that after being an average person, with average friends and problems, something so out of the ordinary as this cuts deep. He presses a kiss to Kouki's temple, smiling a bit when he relaxes further. Akashi is used to people who can't accept anyone outside the norm.

"Surely, our happiness in being together has a higher value than the fearmongering of strangers," He says, and Kouki nods within his grasp, turning to press a kiss to his lips with only a lingering hint of the crippling shyness he'd once felt with Akashi. 

"Yeah," Kouki says afterwards, allowing his usual cheerful nature to surface again. Akashi knows he holds onto the anger, knows by the tension in his fingers, but he also knows it's the type of anger that fuels determination. It's anger towards bigots, anger that will inspire him to disregard others, and not hold back.

Akashi allows himself another smile when he pulls Kouki's chair back and straddles his lap, watching the surprised look blossom on Kouki's face again. He's chosen a good partner in Kouki.


	5. Chapter 5

"Why are we doing this?" Furihata asks a little tensely, laying on a worn-out white sheet that had been covered in dust in a room full of furniture in a disused room. He's completely naked, with his uniform neatly folded on the bed side table. Akashi has an artists' pallet with a few colours on top of it, and a brush for every colour. 

"For research," Akashi says, with an air of finality to it that Furihata can't argue with. He, at least, is still fully clothed and has an intense look on his face. Furihata wonders if this is what he looks like when he studies (if he even studies at all). "Now, sit still."

A brush with blue paint at its thin tip traces the muscles on his body that stand out more, and he remembers the explanation. He's less muscled than most players Akashi knows well, and he wants to train his emperor's eye to see further under the surface. Painting the muscle definition, then reviewing it seems like an intelligent plan, even to Furihata.

The brush tickles, and he lets out a soft huff of laughter. Akashi reprimands him gently, voice completely void of anger or irritation. He holds his breath when the brush touches again in an attempt not to laugh.

The blue brush goes into a cup filled with water, and a yellow one traces muscle that's barely visible, touching to his obliques, to parts of his legs, and he jolts when Akashi feigns an accidental touch of the yellow brush close to his groin.

"That's not fair," He protests, proud of how much better he's gotten at seeing past the captain of Teiko to Akashi instead. It's easier to speak to him when he sees Akashi, who is beyond in control and intense, also caring and full of everyone's best intentions. 

The yellow brush is quickly over, and a red one comes as the most important one, to highlight the muscle that Akashi has the most difficulty seeing. His former almost playful approach drops away, replaced by an intensity that practically drops the room's temperature. An absent smile flits over Akashi's face when he catches sight of Furihata's nipples stiffened by the cold room.

He goes slow when he paints the red on, so slow the paint dries and hardens on the brush twice. When he's finally done, and Akashi lets him look, he wonders if he counts as modern art.

"Now," Akashi says, rubbing a finger through a line of red paint to see if it stays. "We need to see how muscle moves."

He sits back, sets the pallet aside, and takes a bottle of lube out of his pocket.

Oh.


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm stuck," Akashi says, five minutes after Furihata has put on his coat and decided to wait outside. Part of him thinks it's karma, for asking him to come to a love hotel without an ounce of shame. 

They hadn't used any of the equipment in the room, just utilized the bed, and Furihata doesn't know how Akashi managed to get stuck when he walks back into the room and sees him tangled in some kind of harness dangling from the ceiling.

It's the first time he's seen Akashi look a little embarrassed, and though he doesn't say it he commits the moment to memory. Akashi's hands are tangled in three straps behind his back, bent away from eachother. Further down, other straps and a few of the same are tangled in his legs, stopping him from moving his arms and freeing himself. 

"How did you do this?" Furihata asks, because it's an awful lot of straps that he can't imagine getting so tangled up in. Akashi stays stoically quiet, squirming a little. "It doesn't matter."

He kneels down, looking for the start of the straps, and the buckles that hold them. Akashi's left leg comes free first, but the changing center of gravity bows to the laws of physics, and he watches in amused horror as it tips Akashi almost upside down, legs spread wide.

"Get me down," Akashi grinds out, hands twitching despite their lack of use in getting himself down.

He has to stand to get to the other leg, and uses a chair to get near the top straps. They're hard to open, even when he opens the buckles on them, but he gets it eventually, and Akashi swings back right-side up, pulling up his legs to avoid smashing his knees on the carpeted floor. He kneels when he finishes swinging, and purposely avoids looking at Furihata.

His arms come free easily, and Akashi puts on his coat in silence, paying on the way out with a menacing look towards the receptionist.

"That was nice," Furihata says, only gloating a little bit, and Akashi sighs next to him, tangling their fingers together. He thinks briefly that he's gotten away from sex hotels in his near future.

He's wrong. Next time, he ends up in the swing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: death, 'kill me' prompt.

“I can’t lose,” Akashi says, face a picture of still shock. His pale uniform clings to him, and behind him his team are frozen in place. Across from him stands Kuroko, passive face hiding the joy he feels that he’ll express when it won’t be like rubbing salt in Akashi’s wounds. “I can’t.”

He turns on his heel and leaves, ignoring the referee’s calls for him to come back and officially end the match politely. He ignores Reo’s hand on his arm, and the sound of him calling out. He ignores Kouki following behind him.

“It’s impossible,” Akashi reiterates, passing the tables in the empty cafeteria, passing the door to the kitchen. There’s a stumbling, rambling litany of words behind him when Kouki asks him what he’s doing, why he’s doing it, why isn’t he stopping?

“I said I would, and I will,” He barely explains, opening drawers and cupboards methodically through the kitchen. Something in him falls at the same time into calmness and hysteria, clouding his mind.

When he finds it, the knife is in the dish rack to be put away in the morning. It’s cold in his hands, dry and heavy. 

“No,” Kouki says to him, rushing forward when he raises the knife to take out his own eyes, and he trips. He trips and he doesn’t think, and for a moment of clarity everything makes sense to Akashi. He, who knows everything, knows that a kitchen knife to the jugular can’t be fixed.

“No, no, no,” Kouki chants above him, screaming for someone to help with a hysterical sob catching in the back of his throat. His hands colour the same red as Akashi’s hair, and he looks at them like they belong to someone else. Tears drip down his face as if he doesn’t even realize he’s crying.

Akashi pats him on the cheek, mouthing that it’s okay. Nebuya bursts through the door with half of the team in tow; Seirin is just behind them. It’s like the collectively stop and stare, until Seirin’s coach makes a move to call an ambulence.

He closes his eyes, listening to the commotion that starts up like a machine. It’s nice that they care.


	8. Chapter 8

After Seirin wins (for the umpteenth time, Akashi thinks to himself), reporters flock to them. Underdogs, favourites to win,  _amazing_ , despite the fact that Rakuzan has never lost, and will not lose to Seirin.

"All of the miracles are second years," Akashi overhears a reporter saying. It’s stating the obvious, and he ignores it in favour of finding an actually cold bottle of water. "It must put a lot of pressure on you other second years, huh?"

Akashi almost rolls his eyes. A miracle on the team will drag everyone in their wake towards victory.

"I guess, kind of," he hears Furihata answer, and perks up. This time of summer marks just past a full year since they met, since they started dating. In the short time of a year, Furihata has become comfortable with him to an almost out of hand extent. "But to have Kagami on my team is amazing! We’ve been training together since day one, and I never would have pushed myself as hard without him. I wouldn’t trade him for any other miracle on my team."

Time freezes for a second, and in that instant Akashi misses Furihata slyly glancing over at him.

"Would you care to repeat that?" Akashi raises his chin so he can look down on both of them. The reporter looks startled but pleased, and starts to open his mouth.

"I wouldn’t trade having Kagami on my team," he repeats obligingly, cutting off the reporter. He smiles a bit. No,  _smirks_. “Kagami pulled us all to another level with teamwork, and without him, we never would have won so much. We’d never be seeing Rakuzan every day until the finals.”

He moves closer to Akashi to pull him closer in what looks like a friendly hug.

"I wouldn’t trade Kagami on my team," he leans in closer, and lowers his tone. "But I wouldn’t trade you in my bed."

With a bright smile and a wave, he runs off to catch his team for the group picture, leaving Akashi to ignore the reporter. Well. He’s going to ask him to _elaborate_  on that later.


End file.
